Riddled
by xELinneax
Summary: He meets a girl with a mysterious past in practically the middle of nowhere. She's running from something he can't quite figure out and when it's time to fill in the blanks, she disappears. AU, AH.
1. Chapter 1: Introduction

**A/N: Helloooo! :D Here is a story I've been working on forever... I really don't know how it turned out, honestly. There's a few triggers throughout the upcoming chapters, so please be cautious if you are sensitive to that kind of content.**

 **This is an AU, so the characters are a little bit different, personality-wise, than what we are used to. Plus some little things here and there are changed as well. Hope you don't mind too much. :)**

 **I love you all very much!**

 **Disclaimer: I do not own The Vampire Diaries. All rights belong to L.J. Smith and the CW.**

 **xxxxx**

 _RIDDLED_

 _Chapter 1:_

The white canvas stares back at him, like a challenge waiting to be accepted. The game between them has been on a stand-still since he'd arrived earlier that morning and after four hours of glaring and one hour of contemplating a first move, the remaining question is: who will crack first? Because it won't be Damon. Nope, he is determined to find his inspiration and paint _something_ before he rips his hair out. Or loses his job. That stupid piece of paper won't know what hit it.

He huffs out a breath and glances at the floor. There's litred jugs of different-coloured paint surrounding him, in case he needs to refill his little glass jars. But at the pace he's going, he knows he's more likely to trip over them instead of putting them to use. After all, clumsiness is his forte. He has his father to thank for that one.

In the background of his struggle, an old radio sits on the mantel, playing ballads from the eighties and white noise every so often in between. It was his mother's source of inspiration for every painting she ever created and as the son of that brilliant woman, he is going to make it his as well. The cottage is simply an extra touch to the atmosphere - he thought it'd help him focus. Well obviously, he'd thought wrong. After another half-hour of empty concentration Damon places his brush down, breathing in deep because okay, he'll get something done eventually, this isn't the end of the world. Hopefully.

His feet carry him to the kitchen, stepping carefully over the hardwood floor as a reflex from the memory of that one creaky board. Even after all these years, he still walks around this place thinking there's a chance of waking up his parents.

He's in the midst of making a peanutbutter and honey sandwich to calm his nerves when suddenly, the unmistakable sounds of a thud against the floor and someone grunting in pain meets his ears. It makes him freeze mid-chew and his eyes blow wide, because it clearly didn't come from him, and no one in his family besides himself has been in this area in over fifteen years. There is someone else in the cottage with him. A stranger.

There are no instincts that kick in inside of him - he has no kids, nieces or nephews - there'd never been a need to have a protection mode programmed. So the only thing he's got is the knowledge of watching safety procedures as a child and all the information fed to him from his parents. Or more specifically, his mom.

The old radio plays quietly still as Damon takes punctuated steps to his predicted source of sound. Nothing seems to be out of the ordinary as he turns the corner into a bedroom, until a flash of movement just by the bed catches his full attention.

"Hello?" Damon calls out immediately, stupidly maybe. If this person wanted to hurt him, wouldn't they have done so already?

He takes another few steps inside the room and inspects the rest of his surroundings. The bed is as it should be, a lamp lit on one nightstand to the side. There's an open door that leads to a field opposite of where he stands. That must have been where this person came in. Had it been unlocked? Has it been that way since his last visit here?

"Hello."

Surprisingly, the new voice in the room doesn't make him jump. Damon's head turns just the slightest before he locks eyes with a pair of wide irises, peeking over the edge of the mattress. In the dim lighting it's difficult to make out the stranger's features, but as Damon gets closer he's able to distinguish the chestnut brown of her hair, flowing just past her shoulders and disheveled like she'd got caught in a tornado. Her eyes are like melted chocolate, and she's wearing spring attire - sneakers, capris and an oversized t-shirt - although the weather outside is more Fall-ish. Small gashes litter the side of her forehead as well, and Damon wonders just what exactly happened to this young woman. She can't be any older than twenty-five, and she certainly doesn't look the criminal type.

"What are you doing here?" he asks her.

The longer Damon looks at her the more he thinks there's something familiar about her face. He's convinced he's seen her before, but he can't quite put his finger on it. There's also the possibility that he could be losing it, because who meets a stranger and thinks _hey! I've seen you before!_

For now he tucks the thought into the back of his mind.

The intruder remains stock-still, peering up at Damon who stands with his arms crossed over an old white button-down shirt that's splattered and stained with drops of varied colours. He's wearing what appears to be tattered jeans as well, perhaps a pair from his teenage years. And his hair's dark - a thick raven black - sitting sloppily but somehow stylishly atop his head. His eyes... His eyes are so blue, they shine like moonlight on the darkest of nights.

"My name's Elena," the girl says quietly. Her legs feel like jelly as she stands and tries to plant her feet firmly, and she slowly stretches her hand forward for a proper greeting (or well, as proper as it can get at this point). She hopes this... painter (?) doesn't hate her too much for coming inside uninvited. All she needs is some money for food and a bus ticket and she'll be out of there in a flash.

Damon eyes the girl's hand, feeling the slightest hint of hesitancy before he decides not to overthink everything.

"I'm Damon," he smiles, reciprocating the greet. Elena breathes out heavily at that, relief visible in her features, and then the trance between them is broken once Damon re-notices the scabbing on her temple. She drops her hand immediately and watches as Damon reaches forward daringly, just barely touching her skin before his wrist is grabbed and pushed away.

"I'm fine," Elena assures him. She folds in on herself and shifts the weight between her feet, making it clear to Damon just how uncomfortable this entire situation really is.

"I'll get you a washcloth for that," he says anyway, and without letting Elena protest, exits the room quietly, leaving the strange girl to herself.

Since she has the chance, Elena takes her time looking around the room, stepping close in the sore lighting to get better glimpses. There isn't much space to walk around at all, seeing as the bed could fit at least three people in it. And there's only one window in the room, which is attached to the top of the back door leading outside. Different shades of stained wood line the walls as well as what seem to be closets aligning the side to Elena's right. A small dresser with drawers stands on the far side of the room, and as she shifts closer without trying to be a snoop, she finds three picture frames perched on top, all containing three different photographs of the same two people. Her interest is peaked looking at the middle frame, where they're looking at each other instead of at the camera, smiling wide with hearts in their eyes. Whoever they are, Elena thinks, they look absolutely in love. Like the kind of love that never dies, no matter the struggles life throws at them. The kind that is numb to pain.

She quickly tears her eyes away when she hears Damon's footsteps approaching, and in no less than a second later he walks in, expecting to see Elena standing where he'd last left her and surprised when she isn't.

"Oh," he says, his gaze flickering between the pictures and lastly Elena's face. "You noticed those, did you."

She speculates that he seems less... nervous, now as he moves closer and lifts up a green cloth in his hand. He is unfazed by the fact that he's tending to a stranger that he met all of five minutes ago. But in all honesty, Elena somehow feels a sense of safety in the presence of him. And right now, she welcomes it.

"They're my parents, by the way."

Damon's voice brings her out of her thoughts. He's standing close, focusing solely on his task at hand. Elena notices now that he has small crinkles in his skin, right by his eyes and mouth.

"They both died about three years ago, in a car accident."

She doesn't know how to respond.

"I'm... sorry," is what she goes for. She hopes it isn't out of her place to say.

"Don't worry 'bout it." Damon smiles warmly at the girl. He brings down his arm and folds the cloth in his hand, sighing. "Would you like anything to eat?" he offers. "I know this whole incident is strange for the both of us but... you look like you need some taking care of."

Something twinges in the pit of Elena's stomach at the choice of words. _You need some taking care of._ She absentmindedly brushes her thumb against the lowest joint of her third finger on her left hand, feeling an anger rise in her chest although the chilling feel of fifteen karat gold is no longer there.

"That sounds great," she lies, trying to refrain from gritting her teeth. "I'll take whatever you have."

So Damon leads her out of the bedroom, around a corner and into the cottage's small kitchen, where they barely have enough room to walk around, and where there are few cupboards, a fridge, a microwave and a stove. As Elena passes by to sit at the small dinner table standing in a corner, she can't help but spot the shiny glass dish sitting atop the microwave's black surface. She also can't help the jolt in her heart when she discovers there's loose change and car keys lying inside.

"So you never answered my question," Damon speaks up, opening a cupboard and getting out what Elena thinks is a jar of peanutbutter.

"About what?" she replies, mind stuck elsewhere.

"I asked you what you were doing here." Damon pauses his actions to give her a look, with his brow raised in question. "You don't seem like the type to randomly break into someone's cottage."

"Oh, um..." Her conscience goes blank, so she thinks up something quick and something vague. "I ran into some trouble, and this is the nearest place I could find that was unlocked."

"Were you in an accident somewhere?" Damon asks then, gesturing to Elena's scabbing head. "I could call someone for you if you'd like."

"No! Uh, no."

He frowns as he opens another cupboard, sifting around to get a tub of honey. There's something off about her.

"I'd rather just get something to eat and then be on my way. My, uh, family will be worried about me if I don't show up soon. It's my cousin's birthday today."

"Oh." Damon reaches for the knife he'd used earlier for his own sandwich, dropping it once on the counter before he gets a grip on it and smears an even amount of each food product on two pieces of bread. "Well alright then," he mutters. He presses the slices together before he hands Elena her food, then brushes the crumbs off his hands.

"I'm just going to the bathroom quickly," he tells her, "so help yourself to any drink I have in the fridge."

Elena nods with false enthusiasm and Damon sees something flash in her eyes. It awakens an uneasy emotion. He glances back at the girl once more before he turns a corner out of sight, and then all is silent.

Elena takes action immediately. As soon as she hears the bathroom door close, she shoves the sandwich in her mouth so half hangs out and crosses the kitchen to where her ticket out of there rests. She releases a warm breath through her nose before she snatches the keys and grabs a handful of change, wincing at the sound of the coins clanging together. She goes for the back door from where she came in, because she knows she can simply round the area until she finds the car or truck or whatever the hell the man drives.

She's swallowing the last of her sandwich as finally, _finally_ , she spots a vehicle not far off in the distance. It turns out to be an old light blue Camaro, and Elena breaks out in a genuine smile just from the sight of it because for the first time in so long, she's getting something she wants.

The keys are fumbled with as she hurries to unlock the doors, hands trembling and heart beating out of her chest, because there's no way Damon hasn't noticed her absence yet unless he's one of those people who takes an eternity in the bathroom. It's only a matter of time until he comes running outside to tackle the keys from her posession, yell profanities and tell her to go straight to Hell like she deserves.

Elena doesn't notice the tears in her eyes until her vision is obscurred so horribly that she can no longer see her own reflection in she driver's seat window. Angrily, she swipes them away with the back of her hand and focuses on her mission. Determination stops her hands from shaking and the key finally slides in the lock, gaining her access to her escape. Inside, she locks the doors so no one can reach her and cranks up the radio on a random station. She nearly grasps victory as she's trying to start the ignition but she's startled by a sharp tap on the window, just loud enough to freeze her in her tracks. Looking to her right, Elena realizes with sick despair that she's been caught. Damon stands on the other side of the passenger's door with an unreadable expression on his face, an in-between of puzzlement and disappointment.

Instead of climbing out of the truck, Elena pulls on the lock pin by her side to let Damon in. A moment later they sit side-by-side, saying nothing, just listening.

" _The town of Mystic Falls continues to mourn the loss of Mayor Lockwood's dear wife, Elena Gilbert. She'd been lost after her car collided head-on with-_ "

The station switches off. Elena lets her hand drop to her lap.

It clicks with Damon then - why he'd had that feeling that something wasn't right from the beginning. "It's you," he murmurs. He stares at the younger woman sitting next to him, disbelief running through his mind over the fact that the same person he'd heard about on the news is the same person who'd broken into his cottage. Damon remembers now. Yes, he's seen pictures of Elena, actually. But it was so long ago that she's hardly recognizable. She must have cut her hair recently.

"Yes, I am that important woman who died last week." Elena groans. "Now can I please get out of here? I'll get you back your car somehow, I promise."

"H-how are you...?" Damon stutters, completely ignoring the previous statement. His head is going to explode. People coming back from the dead? No way.

Elena sighs heavily and pinches the bridge of her nose. "Look," she says softly, "I don't really feel like explaining my entire life story to you. I simply need a way out of here."

"But... you were dead. You were dead!" Damon exclaims. "We have to call your husband and your family, tell them you're alright!"

" _Don't_ call him that," Elena snaps. Damon recoils at the chill of her tone. "You don't understand what's going on, and I certainly don't need your help. Now get out so I can leave."

Damon ponders his options. He could take the easy way out - agree to let Elena drive away with his beloved car. He could stay at this remote cottage, alone, in the middle of nowhere and try to get his work done. Or he could leave too. Just... just drop everything and go for a while. Like a spontaneous vacation. Never hurts to live a little, right?

"I'm coming too," he decides.

"Pardon?"

Damon straightens herself and dares to look straight in Elena's eyes. "I'm coming with you."

"And why's that?" she challenges.

"Because you're scared of something," he answers. "Because you're reckless and quite frankly, you won't get very far without my help. See, this car is old. Only I can drive her."

"I can take us to a small town, get a room at a motel and buy you some necessities for whatever it is you plan on doing with your life. Then, I'll take back my car, and you'll never have to see me again."

The stretch of silence that follows Damon's offer is a relief to him, because that means he's got the girl thinking. Clearly, she's running from something. Or someone. And strangely, Damon wants to help.

"Fine," Elena waves her hand out, "fine." She brushes a strand of hair away from her face, breathing for a moment before she points a finger in Damon's face. "But I will not be tricked into going back to the hell I came from. Got it?"

"Crystal clear."

"Good." Elena opens her door and turns to look over her shoulder as she steps out, a small smile revealing itself to Damon for the very first time. "Now drive."

xxxxx

 **A/N: Ta-daaaa! :D First chapter. Second one will be up tomorrow or Saturday at some point. ^^ xx**

 **Notice how Damon and Elena's personalities are a bit... switched? xD**


	2. Chapter 2: A run-in with the past

**A/N: Sooooo I hope you liked the first chapter! Things are a bit slow sometimes in this chapter (in my opinion) but it'll be worth it soon enough. :')**

 **Disclaimer: I do not own The Vampire Diaries. All rights belong to L.J. Smith and the CW.**

 **xxxxx**

 _Chapter 2:_

They end up being on the road for about an hour and a half before they have to stop for gas and something to eat. The gas station is small and sits by a sideroad that leads west to a town populated by less than five thousand people. Damon plans on heading there to find a place for the two of them to stay, and to hopefully get some information out of Elena. She's been quiet for most of the trip, brown eyes soaking in the visions of the trees and landscapes as they all blended into one. Damon had wanted to ask what she was thinking about, but had decided against it.

"I could go inside and get some snacks while you fill up the tank, if you'd like."

He has his hands on the keys after he's turned off the ignition, contemplating whether or not he should take them with him outside of the truck. At the sound of Elena's voice he perks up and looks at her, surprise shown on his face as well as gratitude for the suggestion.

"That would be great," he says, pausing. "Thank you."

Elena's brow furrows for a second. What, is it wrong to be polite? Damon had looked at her as if he hadn't expected manners at all. Sure they'd got off to a rough start, but that doesn't mean it has to be that way all the time. Elena may be a bit jagged around the edges but she's smoother in the middle, you just have to file down to reach it.

On her way inside the small variety store, Elena keeps her head down and steps fluid, grabbing a basket as soon as she's through the door. There are few people occupying the aisles, barely casting a moment's glance at her as she passes and it's a nice change from how she used to be treated. Her hands grab things from shelves here and there, making sure to keep within the budget that Damon had given her before she walked in.

Elena wanders around for a few minutes before she finds herself wanting peanutbutter, and she sets off to find the right section where the jars stand stacked. She freezes when a man is already there, a hand lifted to his chin like he's contemplating which brand is best. His hair is short and sandy brown, and Elena can see hints of stubble on the cheek that faces her. There's something about him though... and it twists a knot into Elena's gut. When he turns to her, she knows why.

"Elena?" he whispers, moving closer. "Is that you?" he asks.

She remembers the green of his eyes. She remembers the sound of his voice as he snickered cruelly, how he'd stand in the far corner of the room, watching his best friend abuse his wife while he himself did absolutely nothing to help.

She runs.

Her ears don't _want_ to register the sound of his voice as he calls out to her, so she blocks him out. Her feet skid to a halt as she comes up to cash and the elder woman standing behind the register almost has a heart attack from the abrupt disruption.

"Dear child, are you alright?" she questions. Elena nods feverishly and quickly places her desired items on the conveyor belt, waiting accordingly for the lady to scan them. When they're bagged, she hands the woman an unknown amount of money and thanks her with rushed breath before she books it out of the store, not stopping until she bumps into Damon halfway who appears to have been on his way to meet Elena.

"Come on," Elena breathes, "we should leave."

"What? Why?"

" _Please_."

Suddenly, the sound of a man's voice interrupts them.

"'Lena!" he shouts.

She shivers. She can feel his eyes on her, can feel the way he invades her private space without even having to touch her.

"I know it's you," she hears him say, teasingly. He has not changed one bit and it sickens her.

"Elena," Damon whispers by her ear, "who is this guy?"

"No one," she snaps. _Stefan._

"I don't know how you did it..." The man continues to talk. "But I will find out. As will Mason."

Elena panics. "Get me out of here," she pleads. "Now. Please. I'll explain later, just... _please_."

"Alright." Damon places his hands on Elena's shoulders, rubbing his thumbs up and down softly in hopes that it soothes the girl like it used to soothe him. "Put the bags in the back and get in the car, I'll be right with you."

Elena stares. What's Damon going to do?

"Go on now," he pushes, "don't worry."

She watches with intensity as Damon approaches the man and points a finger right in his chest, a slur of words leaving his lips that Elena is too far away to hear properly. Stefan's expression on the other hand, changes from smug to threatened in a split second and it shocks Elena. She has never seen him that way. Not since the day Mason had become Mayor and he hadn't.

Finally, Elena is brought to laughter as Damon flicks Stefan on the side of the head and drags him inside the store by his wrist. The outdoor reflections in the windows block Elena's full view, only the silhouettes and faint colours visible to her eyes. She waits impatiently in her seat, nearly chewing her nails away until five minutes later, Damon reappears with a receipt in his hand and a scowling Stefan heading for the opposite direction of the truck.

She's gaping at Damon as he climbs in.

"What?" He touches his face and looks down at himself, feeling self-conscious by the way Elena's looking at him.

"That was _the_ best thing I've ever seen," she tells him. "I didn't think anyone could stand up to that asshole like you did."

Damon feels the blood rush to his face. "Oh, well..." He shakes his head and smirks. "He was no different than any other arrogant jackass I've met in my life. You just have to put your foot down and be fearless of the outcome."

He gazes at Elena, watches the dullness in her eyes become the slightest bit livelier as she seems to lift her chin higher while taking in a breath.

"I'll remember that," she replies.

The engine roars to life.

xxxxx

"So, what do you do for a living?"

The truck's radio is sitting on a classic rock station as the two get to know each other. So far they've learnt their ages, favourite colours and songs, also if they have kids - to which both answered no. Elna had been more shocked at Damon's answer, but when she herself had been asked for an explanation she'd laughed it off and changed the subject. She's beginning to trust Damon, even more so after what just happened at the gas station, but she isn't quite sure if she's ready to drop a bomb on him just yet.

"I'm an artist."

Elena's mind blanks and she looks confused for a few seconds, then remembers that she'd asked Damon a question.

"Well, a painter," he clarifies. "My 'boss' is a friend of mine and he helps put my pieces out on display in different galleries. I'm working on a specific theme right now but... I can't seem to find the right inspiration for it."

"And what's the theme?" Elena pops a dill pickle-flavoured chip in her mouth.

"Love."

Her heartbeat picks up in her chest, somehow still affected by the way the word reminds her of everything she's running from. When she was younger, love had been her favourite dream. Now it's her nightmare.

"Oh," she murmurs, swallowing the chip with a wince.

"Yeah, I mean, it's a very common theme and it should be easy to figure out, but right now my mind's at a blank. I have no idea why..."

Elena hums an ackowledgement of Damon's rambling, hoping he doesn't notice she isn't entirely paying attention.

"Speaking of love," he goes on, barely noting the way Elena's discomfort is showing, "don't you miss your husband at all?"

"Ex. And no."

The answer is so curt and clipped that Damon's curiosity starts to get the best of him. He really wants to know why Elena is so... angry with the subject of her life.

"Are you sure? I mean... you must have been through something in order to end up here with me and-"

"I'd really rather not discuss any of this," she interrupts. "Just drop it. I don't like nosy people."

"And that's fine," Damon assures her. "I just want you to know that you can trust me. I am in no way connected to your past so... it's not like sharing your troubles can hurt anyone."

He takes his eyes off the road for a moment to gently place his hand on Elena's knee. It's hesitant, and at the first touch she flinches a little, like she's afraid of the actual physical contact. But she slowly leans in to it eventually, and she offers Damon a half-forced smile before averting her gaze once more and continuing her unhealthy snacking.

The trip stays at a level of silence after that, with the exception of the radio of course. Elena even finds herself humming along to some of the songs, and is encouraged further by Damon when he joins in. The road is nearly empty ahead of them, only a few transport trucks passing and some small cars heading in the opposite direction. Beside them it's open country. The land spans all the way out to the horizon, meeting the sky in a parallell chase around the trees and tiny houses. Elena thinks it's all so beautiful and peaceful, because she'd never grown up with the freedom that countrysides could have given her. And she feels, for a moment, that she wishes her parents could have seen all this, and moved to a place where Elena wouldn't have been stuck with noisy nights and morning traffic for an alarm clock. She's never truly experienced quiet.

An hour later, Elena finds herself being nudged awake.

"Hey," a voice says quietly, "we've stopped now. I'll head inside and check us in, then come out to get you, okay?"

With her eyes barely open, she utters a low hum of consent before she yawns, listening to the immediate sounds of a door opening, the scuff of shoes against gravel and then the gentle slam as the door closes once again. Elena waits a few seconds before she blinks her eyelids to wake herself up, and she stretches her arms above her head while she looks out the window. The sun's almost set, with bright arrays of orange and yellow washed into the usual clear blue. She smiles as she opens her door, hearing nothing but the chirp of crickets and her own thoughts in her mind.

Just as she steps out, Damon walks back outside and lights up when he sees her, holding up a key with a number attached to it.

"Hey sleepyhead," he says happily, "our room's the last one right down there, number nine." He points to his left and Elena follows the general direction of his finger, nodding once when she spots the faintly painted number on the door.

They walk there together after they each grab a grocery bag sitting in the backseat. There's not a soul outside with them, only a few vehicles parked here and there ranging from small to very large. The lock on their door is a struggle to deal with, but they manage to fit the key inside after a bit of maneuvering and jostling. In the room itself, Elena's hit with the smell of lemon Windex, and she wrinkles her nose, which makes Damon chuckle.

"Hey, at least it smells clean," he says, nudging her with his elbow.

Elena snorts. "Yeah, but what's the smell covering, is what I want to know."

"How about we don't find out?"

"Sounds good to me."

They both laugh.

There's two single beds settled against the left side of the room, with a small analog clock sitting on a nightstand in between. A box tv stands adjacent, with its remote perched on top. Elena wonders if Damon had specifically asked for a room like this - with two beds. Anyway, she's thankful for the space.

The walls are - or, were - white, but they appear to have yellowed over time. The floor's carpeted navy blue and stained in the centre with some kind of brown-ish orange substance that had never come out, which Elena doesn't want to find out how it got there or what it is. She notices there's a wide window just by the door where they came in, and it could showcase the view of the parking lot outside if it weren't for the ugly curtains covering it.

"So," Damon speaks softly, his tone lighthearted, "what would you like to do?"

Elena's not sure, actually. She'd like to go out, maybe walk around for a bit and get some fresh air, but the bed looks surprisingly welcoming and her legs feel like there are weights attached to her ankles, so she decides it's better if she stays in for the night.

"I think I'd like to just watch whatever they have on tv and get some sleep after."

Damon nods. "Sounds good to me." He digs around in one of the bags they brought in and comes up with two packets of instant noodles in his hands. "I saw a small kitchen just in there," he points to a doorway behind them, "I'll fix us some food to eat. Okay?"

"Alright," Elena replies. She makes sure to truly show her sincerity this time when she adds, "Thank you."

Damon pauses just before he disappears from the room. "You're welcome."

Left alone to herself, Elena grabs the black remote sitting atop the television and presses the "on" button. She flings herself back on the bed and shifts to find a comfortable position, her mind swirling with random thoughts as she waits for the cable box to connect with the satelite dish.

The man, from earler... His name is Stefan. He's been friends with her ex since high school, and they know everything there is to know about each other, about Elena, and the details of her relationship with _him_. With Mason. He's an ass, and she has wished on more than one occasion for the guy to drop dead, because honestly, he's been a real struggle to deal with, as he proves so easily himself.

Something's nagging her from somewhere in her head though, reminding her that Stefan doesn't give up so easily. He may have been told off this time, but he always knows how to track a person down. And Elena is definitely no exception to this. She knows she'll be found, but the question is not _where_ she will be found - but _when_.

Lost in her reverie, she doesn't notice Damon's back inside the room until she stumbles a little, and broth spills over the rims of the two bowls in her hands, landing with dull smacks on the carpet as it begins to seep in.

"Oh," he mumbles, and after nervously looking down at the fresh stains on the carpet, hands Elena her own bowl. "Oops."

Elena laughs. "You're a little clumsy, aren't you?" she asks.

Damon pauses, then shrugs his embarrassment off with nonchalance. "Maybe just a tad."

"I like it," Elena tells him. She scoops up a forkful of noodles in her mouth, chewing soundly. "Clumsiness is just a reminder that we're all humans who make mistakes."

Damon sits down on the edge of his bed to the right of Elena. He blows softly on his food. "That's true," he agrees. He remembers something about the young woman right then, and without thinking carefully, ends up spitting the words out without a second thought.

"Just like you can learn to trust again even if the bond's been broken once before."

xxxxx

 **A/N: Oooh Damon, I think Elena'll pick up what you're trying to say pretty easily.**

 **Stefan, the heck you doin'?**

 **:) xx**


	3. Chapter 3: Walls

**A/N: If you notice any mistakes here and there, like seeing the names "Casey" or "Karly", It's because this entire thing is actually a short story that I handed in for English class (and got an A on, yay me). So sorry if I miss a few mistakes! Tell me if you spot any and I'll change them immediately. :)**

 **Love you!**

 **Disclaimer: I do not own The Vampire Diaries. All rights belong to L.J. Smith and the CW.**

 **xxxxx**

 _Chapter 3:_

Damon knows he's crossed a line as soon as the sentence escapes his mouth. Elena's gaze hardens as she stares into her bowl, a vein protruding just beneath the skin where her head remains scabbed. She doesn't look up at Damon, nor does she speak a word, and they end up finishing their food in complete reticence, with tension so thick in the air that it's nearly tangible. It frustrates Damon, actually. He can't help Elena if she won't open up, and enough has happened for him to have the right to wonder if there really is a bigger picture behind how Elena had ended up in his family's cottage. They've known each other for less than twenty-four hours, but it feels so much longer.

Feeling like he doesn't know how to act, Damon stands abruptly with his bowl in his hand and clears his throat. "I'll go take the bowls into the kitchen and wash them, then," he announces. Elena still doesn't respond. She simply holds out her empty dish and waits for it to be grabbed. Once Damon is alone in the kitchen, he plugs the drain and switches on the hot water tap, bracing himself against the counter as the sink fills up.

A sigh escapes him. This could be one helluva night.

Elena, on the other hand, is having an internal battle. She _wants_ to tell Damon about her life, she really does. But what good would it do to drag somebody else into the mess? It's bad enough that she's had to deal with it for so long but placing another person in the crossfire? Not her style, no matter how selfish she wants to be.

Frustrated, she slams her head into the pillow on her bed. The material is scratchy, and smells like beer. She grimaces.

Suddenly, there's a knock at the door. Elena glances at the kitchen doorway, thinking maybe Damon had heard it too. But apparently he hasn't, because he doesn't show his face at all, meaning Elena now has to get up and open the damn thing herself.

She realizes her mistake just as she greets their visitor without checking through the peephole first, because to her not-so-surprise, Stefan stands on the other side of the motel door. His hands are clasped behind his back as if to show class and respect, and it makes Elena want to scoff in his face.

"What do you want?" she demands. She's not taking any of his shit this time.

A deep chuckle rumbles in Stefan's chest as he shakes his head slowly, one hand lifting to scratch his stubbled chin. "I came to apologize," he says earnestly. "I realize I may have caught you off guard with my sudden appearance back there."

" _Off guard_?" she repeats incredulously. "The reason I'm out here in the first place is to get away from my old shitty life and the first thing I managed to see is a reminder of it. ' _Caught you off guard_ ' is an understatement."

"'Lena, listen, it was pure coincedence I was there at the same time, I promise-"

" _Don't_ call me that." She moves to shut the door.

"Hey, Elena?"

She turns. Damon's standing a few feet away, holding a dish towel in his hands and wiping suds off his skin. His sleeves are rolled up to his elbows and he looks confused and curious, bright eyes shining in the evening light. Stefan apparently takes Elena's brief pause of action as his cue to push open the door she's holding and it slips right past her fingers, slamming loudly against the wall behind.

"You again," Damon speaks. His tone has changed, to cold and unwelcoming. Elena guesses he's recognized Stefan from back at the gas station, as the man (or one of them) that she wants nothing to do with.

"Yes, hello," Stefan replies. His eyes are glued to his feet, like he's actually nervous around Damon. Elena can hardly believe what she's seeing right now.

"What are you doing here?" Damon asks him. He crosses his arms over his chest and gently leans into Elena's side as a show of protection.

"Nothing bad. Just came to apologize."

"Ah, so you're taking my advice then?"

 _What?_

Elena snaps her head to one side, her eyebrows cast downwards in befuddlement. What advice? What exactly had Damon told him? Is that why he'd stormed off before?

"Well, I guess, I mean-"

"Doesn't matter," Elena interrupts. She casts a side glance at Damon before she plasters a fake smile on her face and looks back to Stefan. "Have a horrible day," she says with enthusiasm, and shuts the door before the guy can even react. She hopes it hits him in the nose.

"Don't you think that was a bit rude?" Damon says to her, observing as she pulls the chain lock across and walks back to her original spot, seated on the bed.

"Absolutely not," is what he gets as an answer. No hesitation. "He's an ass, and I'm not about to treat him any differently just because he was frightened into apologizing. You can forget that."

"You could try giving him a chance?" Damon suggests. "He doesn't seem all that bad once you really-"

"What?" Elena demands. Her eyes burn fiercely, slicing daggers right through Damon's heart. "Once you really what? Get to know him? Talk it out? Have a decent conversation?" She scoffs in disgust. "There is nothing I'd like more than to see him fall off the face of the Earth and disappear for good."

"Really, though? Are you sure that, deep down, your mind is set?"

"Listen," she commands. She's practically breathing fire. "You don't know jack shit about my life. I am thankful for everything you've done for me and I am thankful for your understanding of what little information I've given you, but _do not_ , at any point, think you can tell me how to handle my life. My past is my past and that's that. Period. The end."

"Yes, I understand," Damon explains. He swiftly moves toward Elena and sits on the edge of the bed, reaching to place a hand on her knee, but it is slapped away.

"You don't," Elena argues. "You don't understand. And you never will."

There are tears in her eyes and she chokes them back. Her mind is screaming at her, yelling with all its might to let Damon in and tell him everything. But she's learnt to build walls, she's learnt to withhold her deepest secrets. Because when secrets get out, they can cause damage. And that's the last thing Elena wants. She's tired of damage. She's tired of hiding. She's just... tired.

"I think I'll... get some sleep now," she murmurs. Damon doesn't say a word. He simply stands and pads softly to a corner in the room where a plastic bag sits leaned against the wall. Elena's surprised when Dmaon returns with a packaged toothbrush and some toothpaste.

"Here," he mumbles, holding them out to grab.

"When did we get these?" Elena wonders.

"I had them with me, in an overnight bag in my car. Never used."

"Oh... alright." She takes the objects in her hands. "Thank you."

"No problem."

The bathroom is small, but it works. Elena is pleased to find the shower isn't as gross as she'd expected, and there are even tiny bottles of shampoo and conditioner, along with body wash standing against the wall. There's a faint scent of some kind of cleaning product in the air, which to be honest, is much better than any other smell. She stands in front of the mirror that hangs above the sink, her eyes appearing dull and lifeless in the awful flourescent lighting. The scabs on the side of her head have gotten to the itchy stage of healing, but she doesn't have the energy to pick at them. Instead, she brushes her teeth hastily and washes her face with cold water before she heads to bed, where she spots Damon already tucked in, fast asleep.

xxxxx

At an unknown hour in the night, there's a sharp knock at the door. Elena is instantly awake, and she sits upright in bed. It takes her eyes a minute or two to adjust in the dark, but eventually she can make out the shape of her bed and the path to the door without tripping on anything. After carefully sliding open the lock, she opens the door and peers out. Nothing but silence greets her on the other side. She is baffled by this, and becomes convinced she's starting to hear things, but her foot steps on something that isn't carpet and when she looks down, she sees what resembles a card, or a letter, with her own name scrawled on the front. In her hands it feels smooth, and the writing is crisp and clean. Elena wonders where the hell it came from, and why her name is on it, but as the moonlight continues to shine in the ink blue sky, it reveals a hidden seal that sits in the far left corner of the letter.

She gasps and drops the letter to her feet, reacting as if it had burned her. She'd forgotten all about the "secret seal" that he'd always tell her about. It was used for important business with important people, never for jokes or anything informal. Which means this can't be good.

She glances at Damon lying in his bed, still asleep. Good, Elena thinks. This will be easier without any disruptions.

The door is quickly shut and locked before she lifts the letter from the floor, her feet carrying her to the bathroom where she flicks on the light and sits down on the toilet seat. Her breath comes out shakily and her hands can't seem to stop trembling, but she eventually musters up enough control to open the damn thing and scan the words, her face paling gradually with each passing second. It reads:

 _My dearest Elena,_

 _Darling, you should know better than to foolishly attempt to trick me. I was always better at the mind games, remember?  
_ _Now, I've recently received word from a little birdy that you're in company of another man, who appears to be helping you in your... situation. Well, I hate to tell you this, but he is of no aid to you. You are to rid of him immediately, or I will be forced to take action myself, and... you know how much I hate getting my hands dirty.  
_ _Here's my deal: you can stay with this man, and wait for a looming consequence, or, you can end it all now.  
_ _I will be waiting for you just east of that filthy hotel you're staying at. Be ready to come home at eight a.m. sharp.  
_ _This is your decision to make._

 _You can't get rid of me this easily, baby. I'll see you soon. All the love,  
_ _Your husband, Mason_

 _Ex_ -husband, Elena corrects bitterly to herself. She crumples the letter in her hands and chucks it at the empty garbage bin beside the toilet. How dare he think he can harass her this way? Christ, it's times like these when she really wonders how she'd ended up marrying him in the first place.

It's because she'd been naive, really. When she'd noticed the signs of their marriage going south just barely a year into the bind, she'd thought she was overthinking things - that he'd never stoop low enough as to physically hurt her. Well, she'd been sorely wrong. It had started with words here and there, a comment on how she looked or how she held herself in the public eye. It later advanced to unwanted contact, and finally as the cherry on top of it all, harsh smacks to the face. Elena can remember the days she'd hide in the bathroom all morning, desperately trying to cover the bruises with what little makeup she was allowed to have. That factor in itself had never really bothered her, in fact she hates wearing makeup. But at the time it had frustrated her to no end, because wearing that crap all day was much better than facing the embarrassment of being weak enough to stay in a relationship gone wrong.

The memories are overwhelming. She stands abruptly and she digs her fingernails into her scalp, willing the pictures of her past to disappear and vanish from her life. She wants to forget, she wants to move on and be stronger than this. But she can't. Something's blocking her and it won't get out of the way.

Her reflection in the mirror is horrendous. She cringes at the tear streaks tainting her skin and the way it makes her look like a swollen fish. Once again, it reminds her of everything she's running away from. And it hurts. It _hurts_. The years of abuse had been painful, and the accident caused to fake her death had also been painful, yes, but she'd never thought this would hurt so much more. Being stuck in the mud, being trapped in a maze - it's making her head spin and she can barely think straight anymore. Plus Damon - _Damon_ is merely trying to help. He's been nothing but kind to Elena this entire time and they met, what, just under a day ago? It's not fair. It's unfair to the both of them and all Elena wants - _needs_ \- right now, is some peace. Some closure. A new life where she can find someone who will love her the way she truly deserves to be.

By the time she's able to breathe properly again, her mind is made up. She's sick of this game and it's only begun. The best way to keep it from going further is to stop it right in its tracks. So she'll meet Mason. Tomorrow, in the morning, before Damon wakes up. She needs to do this for herself.

With a splash of cold water over her face, Elena exits the bathroom silently and lays back down in bed. Just a couple more hours, a couple more hours until she can put this to an end.

She falls asleep with tears in her eyes.

xxxxx

 **A/N: I apologize if you think the chapters are short. :) Like I mentioned before, this is a short story. The entire thing is only about twelve thousand words in total, so the chapters will be short in order to "drag" this out a bit more. Ya know, keep the suspense. xD**

 **Hope you liked! xx**


	4. Chapter 4: Facing an enemy

**A/N: Heeeerreeee's chapitre num** **é** **ro** **quatre!**

 **Thank you so much for the reviews! I hope you continue enjoying the rest of this story! :)**

 **Disclaimer: I do not own The Vampire Diaries. All rights belong to L.J. Smith and the CW.**

 **xxxxx**

 _Chapter 4:_

Damon wakes to the sound of running water. He shifts in bed, rolling over to check on Elena, and notices her absence immediately. She must be in the shower then.

There's still barely any light in the room and there's hardly a sound outside the window. Damon glances at the clock sitting on the bedside table - it's just past six thirty. Why in the world is Elena up this early? Has she slept at all?

No less then a minute later, he hears the water shut off with a squeak of the tap, and then Elena emerges from the bathroom with a white towel wrapped around her body and her hair slicked back behind her ears. Damon observes in silence as she breathes in deeply and paces the room, seeming anxious about something, like there's a weight on her shoulders. Damon hopes it isn't because of anything he's done, because he knows he may come across as forward but his intentions are always pure, no matter what.

When he'd seen the way that guy - Stefan, was it? - had affected Elena's general behaviour, he had acted on instinct. And the instinct to protect is something he hasn't experienced like this, at least not since high school. Not since he'd had a real friend.

"I know you're awake, Damon."

She's looking straight at him, with her arms crossed.

"Oh, um," he clears his throat, "good morning. I was wondering why you were awake."

"I have something to take care of," Elena replies. She looks down at the floor briefly and shifts the weight between her legs, swallowing a lump in her throat before speaking once more. "I'll be back soon, though."

"Alright."

There's a pause, and then Elena nods, giving a halfhearted smile as she turns towards the bathroom to dress. Damon feels anxious suddenly, like he wants to say something more, so he quickly adds, "Be safe," before Elena's shut the door. Not long after, he fades into unconsciousness. The next time he wakes up, four hours later and wide awake... Elena is nowhere to be seen not a trace of her presence is found.

Meanwhile, in an annoyingly pristine limousine with expensive champagne bottles and expensive glasses to match, Elena sits with her chin resting on her hand, staring out the window. It's the better alternative than having to look at the man sitting next to her. He's been silent the entire ride so far, but she can sense his beady gaze every few minutes.

As the trees pass and the open fields diminish into houses and buildings, she finds herself missing Damon. For the briefest moment she had gotten a taste of serenity, and now it lingers in the deepest corners of her heart. Plus compared to what she's diving into, ELENA really thinks she would rather spend her life back at Damon's cottage, just hanging out. Having the time to think and figure out her future from where she currently stands. The added bonus would be she'd have a friend to help her along the way.

Elena frowns. None of this is possible now. She's left Damon without explanation, agreed to come back to her dick-of-an-(ex-)husband (to keep Damon out of danger's way) and the only thing he even has to remember her by is her foul attitude and a note stuck to his windshield that Elena prays to God hasn't blown away in the wind. There's a small chance that she can do this right though, and finally be able to flee Mason's cruelty for good, but she has to play her cards right or this could end worse than it started.

There's an irritated sigh from beside her, and Elena glances over her shoulder quickly. Mason has his phone out, thumb pressing buttons at a mile a minute. It makes her scowl. She had never been allowed to have any type of contact with the outside world. Her confinement had been the town Mason mayored for, and anything outside - off-limits.

"Alright," he says suddenly, jolting her from her thoughts. "We'll be home in a few minutes, so let's go over the plan, shall we?"

Elena rolls her eyes.

"Keep your head down, go straight inside and don't show your face until tomorrow morning. We'll have to make an announcement that you are in fact, alive, and the entire 'death' plot was for your safety from a threat that has now been eliminated."

"The only threat in my life is you," Elena spits. "And from what I'm seeing, it clearly has not been terminated as of yet."

"Hmm," Mason chuckles, "still bitter, I see?" He presses another button on his phone before he slides it into an inside pocket of his blazer. "Don't worry. You'll get used to the routine again in no time."

Elena makes a noncommittal noise in the back of her throat and goes back to ignoring his presence. He seems to take it as note to keep to himself, and for the rest of the trip she is happily left with her own fleeting thoughts.

The next series of events unfold nicely. When they arrive at the house - or, as Mason insists, the _mansion_ \- Elena is let out of the limousine and briskly ushered inside, then left in the familiarity of the front foyer. She wanders, running her fingers over the bright wallpaper on the walls and the furniture with not a speck of dust in sight. She remembers how much she'd hated cleaning back when they'd first married; how she had asked Mason to hire a maid. And of course she'd never been rigid with the woman when she'd arrived and became a working guest there, but as she now steps into this paper house, she realizes her selfishness.

Mason's study is exactly how she (unfortunately) remembers. It's dark and smells of cigars and cologne that clogs your nose, closed off from outside light and easily believed to be an ordinary closet. Elena's always hated being in there. It makes her feel dirty or... _guilty_ somehow.

 _Probably just rubbed-off emotions left by someone else occupying the space_ , her conscience sneers. She has to agree on that one.

The abrupt sound of the front door opening makes her rush out of the study and head to the staircase, with hope that it gives the impression of her having been upstairs and _not_ snooping.

Her mind sparks an amusing thought that makes her smile. She's being _nosy_. Just like Damon.

"Sweetheart?"

The smile vanishes. A grimace takes its place.

"Where'd you run off to?" she hears Mason laugh.

 _Ha-ha_. She rolls her eyes. What a fantastic joke.

He finds her sitting in the middle of the staircase, and the look she receives from him almost takes her breath away. He looks eighteen again, just graduating high school and telling her how amazing their lives are going to be once they get married and have a family and a cozy little house by the countryside with nothing but time on their hands.

Oh how the times have changed. Instead, Stefan, an at-the-time mutual best friend, had persuaded Mason into getting into politics. The idea itself had been solid - Elena'd thought it was for the rights of the town and a job that could support a possible family in the future. But again, she'd been wrong. It had turned into a role of power within the first few weeks of winning the election. He'd gotten so much attention for being the youngest to campaign and the youngest to win - it'd all gone to his head. From there it'd gone downhill fast... and the rest is history.

Mason clears his throat and Elena catches her mistake of staring too long. She watches him sway gently on his feet.

"I'll be in my study for the rest of the day so, call the maid if you need anything, I'm sure she's up in her room. Keep the noise down though, alright?"

Elena refrains from scoffing. "Sure, whatever."

"Alright then. I'll... leave you to it."

She books it uptairs as soon as his footsteps fade into the next room. She's memorized the doors in the hallway, knows that the one on the far left is the bathroom and next to that is a guest bedroom. Next there's a closet for towels and sheets, and the double-doors next to reveal the master bedroom. Mason thinks she's going to sleep in there tonight with him. Psst, here's a secret: wrong-o.

The next three doors beside are mirrors of those on the left. Elena goes for the guest bedroom on the right side and knocks twice before entering. Bonnie, the maid - but now seen as more of a friend - is standing by the bed folding laundry when she looks up upon hearing Elena enter. Her face twists into an expression of terror and she rushes forward, grabbing Elena by the arms. "Honey," she breathes, "what are you doing back here? You should be long gone!"

Elena notices how aged Bonnie looks even though she'd been absent from the household for only one day. The bags under eyes seem to look darker and heavier, like she hasn't slept a wink in _ages_. It angers Elena that she'd never seen these things before she'd made her escape. She would have brought Bonnie along.

"I had to come back," she tells her. "I met someone outside of this mess that helped me get some distance, but something happened and I was forced to return in order to protect that someone from getting hurt."

"You should have stuck together," Bonnie protests. "You are better as a team than individuals. Escpecially now."

"Now?" Elena frowns in confusion. "What's going on?"

"Mason is a monster," Bonnie whispers. She peers around nervously as if someone's listening in, like someone is lurking on the other side of the door. "You were gone for one day and suddenly he's this whole other person," she explains."There's a façade he puts on, that I've seen more than once. During the day he is presentable, but he drinks himself into oblivion at night. I've had to lock myself in the bathroom to get away from him."

"Has he hurt you?" Elena demands.

"I-I can't say, I can't-"

"Bon," she cups her friend's cheeks and brushes tears away from her dark brown eyes, "has he hurt you?" she whispers.

The cracked sob she receives in response is all she needs. Anger thumps through her veins and she storms out of the room against Bonnie's insistence to stay in the safe zone. Her footsteps are loud and determined against the tiled floor as she skips the knocking and heads straight inside Mason's study. Who the fuck cares if this is his space? If she's living with him, she shares the space too.

"What the hell is wrong with you?" she shouts when he appears before her.

Mason takes a sip of whatever junk's in his special crystal glass and he peers up at her figure in front of the desk. "Excuse me?" he says.

"You heard me, you prick. I was gone for one day. _One day_ of pure, magnificent bliss without you in my life and I come back to news of you hurting our maid, my _friend_?" Elena points a finger at his chest. "You're sick."

She watches with fury in her eyes as Mason slowly rises to his full height and rounds the corner of the desk. When he stands in front of her he places his hands on her shoulders but she shakes them off in disgust.

"Since when has she ever been your friend?" he questions. "And I don't know what she's told you, but it is false information. You know she only creates these lies so she can be paid more."

"That's bullshit," Elena argues. "You're the one who's always lying. You lie to me, to this town and to anyone you ever meet. I don't know why I ever married you because honestly, these days there's nothing appealing about you at all. So go suck a-"

 _Smack._

She is struck across the face. The sting of it doesn't register until she holds her hand to the surely forming bruise and looks up at the man she once loved dearly. His eyes burn wildly, nostrils flaring and if this weren't such horrible timing, she'd laugh at the way he looks like an upset bull.

"You dare fucking come in here and throw these filthy accusations at me?" he barks. "I've worked my ass off to get where I am and all I've ever done is provide for you. Sure, I get tired sometimes, but it doesn't fucking help when some bitch is taking up space in my home and-"

Elena fights back. She whips her hand across Mason's face, watches the astonishment wash over his expression. She takes a step back, preparing to dash from the room before he can put in another word, but he stops her. She's grabbed harshly by the wrists and pinned to the nearest wall, his breath fanning over her face as his hips dig into hers. He hums low into her ear, like this is pleasing him in some cruel way.

"I was going to let you off the hook for speaking so harshly to me, but now you've messed it all up for yourself," he taunts. She whimpers at the contact and flexes her fingers, trying to loosen his grip on her. It has the opposite effect.

"Don't make the mistake of thinking you have any power over me," he warns, practically hissing in Elena's ear. Her breath wavers as he nudges his nose along the line of her jaw, because for a second she thinks he'll try something on her; take the torture to a new low. But he doesn't. Instead he releases her, in a movement so abrupt that she stumbles on her feet to catch her balance. The air feels like it's left her lungs as she whisks out of the room, her hair falling over her face before she viciously brushes it away. There are tears in her eyes and she hates herself for always being this weak and being uncapable of showing her true strength to Mason. One of these days she'll get it right. She has to.

Afternoon turns to evening before nighttime finally falls. Elena stays in the guest room with Bonnie until she hears Mason go to bed, and they sneak downstairs for a bite to eat before they too decide it's time to turn in.

Elena remains awake at an unknown hour of the night. Her mind keeps replaying memories of Mason, both old and new. It's giving her the creeps and she's massaging her wrists every five seconds in fear of feeling _his_ instead of her own. Moonlight streams down through the curtains and across the floor, crawling up the bed over the covers where her feet are. She focuses on the ghostly glimmer of it, how a beam of reflected light can give off such an aura of mystery. She soon finds herself being lulled to sleep, and after being tired for so long, she eventually lets go, and succumbs to her fatigue.

xxxxx

 **A/N: Oooohhh some stuff's goin' down. Things will speed up a little bit after this, so be prepared! ;)**

 **Lots of love to you all! xx**


	5. Chapter 5: Startling news

**A/N: Hello! Sorry I haven't been online in a while, I've been traveling overseas to stay with my dad for the summer, but now that I'm here and have settled in, we can get back to business.**

 **Thank you for the reviews! I'm so grateful to all of you who read and favourite and follow.**

 **Happy reading! :)**

 **Disclaimer: I do not own The Vampire Diaries. All rights belong to L.J. Smith and the CW.**

 **xxxxx**

 _Chapter 5:_

This isn't working. This just _really_ isn't working.

Damon is two seconds away from burning this canvas. Seriously, the thing's been haunting him forever and he can't believe he hasn't thought of a single thing to paint. Not one. He's convinced there's something wrong with his brain, because it's never taken this long to find his inspiration for a piece. But this time feels different, and he's not sure how.

Sighing, Damon places his brush down and takes a seat in the recliner across from the empty fireplace. He doesn't get it. How can he not have any ideas? He has everything he needs. His cottage, his peanubutter and honey sandwiches and even the old radio's on, playing the usual tunes. His mind's got to be playing some kind of trick on him - giving him some kind of mental test.

"Ugh," he mutters under his breath.

He stands and wanders into the bedroom, freezing just inside the doorway. This is where he'd met Elena.

His eyes land on the dresser, and he walks to it, running his fingers across the picture frames on top. He smiles at the photo in the middle, the one that Elena had seemed to think stuck out more than the others. It's funny, because it's Damon's favourite too.

"I miss you," he whispers out loud. He''s not yet sure who he's saying it to.

xxxxx

Elena wakes up pleasantly warm and cozy in bed. She feels like a big cuddly blanket, with her head on a cloud and arms wrapped safely around her-

 _Arms?_

She jolts and sits straight up, her heart pounding furiously in her chest. A second goes by before she hears the low rumble of laughter beside her and she twists around, eyeing the space beside her that had been unoccupied last time she'd checked.

"What do you want?" she snaps, scowling at the smug grin on Mason's face. He's tracing the shape of her body with his eyes, lingering on the bits of skin that are uncovered. It makes Elena shudder.

"I came in to wake you earlier," he tells her, crossing his arms behind his head. "You just looked so peaceful, I couldn't resist lying down beside you."

"Right, because ruining people's peace is what you're good at."

"Now, now." Elena feels the bed shift in weight and she shoots Mason a glare as he sits up and pats her back gently. "We're making the announcement today, so you have half an hour to make yourself presentable."

"Announcement?" she repeats, confusion written over her features.

"Sweetheart, the town still thinks you're dead."

 _Maybe it should stay that way._ "Oh."

"Mhmm, so-," Mason stands from the bed and fixes the collar of his too-expensive-to-be-worth-buying dress shirt, "-be ready."

He leaves the room. Elena immediately bolts to the closet, searching for a large duffle bag. There's no way in hell she's staying here. She'd thought she could take this - being here again- but it's proven to be the worst idea she's ever had. If that announcement is made, she'll have to start making appearances again, and be dragged to important events and meetings with Mason. She doesn't want that, doesn't want this life anymore. It's bad enough she's had to deal with all of his shit for who-knows-how-many years, but Bonnie's experienced his wrath as well, and she-

"Bonnie," Elena whispers, freezing her actions. If she's getting out of here, Bonnie is too. It would be unfair and downright cruel to leave her here when they both have a chance to escape. If everything goes right, they can both live happier lives. Elena has no time to think about the possible consequences of being caught trying to leave again.

She cracks open the bedroom door and peers out into the hallway. It's quiet. She fist-pumps the air as she steps out, remembering to tip-toe since her bare feet usually stick to the marble flooring otherwise. On her way to Bonnie's room, she catches the sound of a voice coming from the master bedroom, and Elena realizes Mason's left the door open after he'd walked in.

She gets closer, leans her head against the wall by the doorjamb.

" _Of course_ she won't know about this, dear," she hears. "'Lena's as brainless as a rock, she wouldn't find out about us if our videotape hit her straight in the face."

Elena stumbles back, her mind not quite grasping the information it has just received. Mason's cheated on her. _Cheated_.

She can't believe she'd never seen this coming. It's only the next step in tearing them apart altogether, and it's not like he's ever shown he truly cares anymore. This is simply the icing on the cake.

Elena shakes her head and steps away from the wall, quickly running to Bonnie's door as to not draw Mason's attention. She peers inside and finds that Bonnie isn't there, so she heads for the staircase instead. Halfway down, something tickles her chin and she reaches up, only to discover it's wet and she's started crying, _again_.

A strangled noise emits from her throat and suddenly she can't breathe, and she's willing herself not to choke out the sobs that are clogging her chest. She runs into the kitchen and thankfully spots Bonnie there, wiping the countertop with a Swiffer cloth.

"B-Bonnie," she says brokenly, trying to catch her breath.

The woman looks up at her and gasps, hurrying to hold Elena together before she crumbles completely. She's ushered into the walk-in pantry as the door's locked behind them and a lightbulb flickers on above their heads.

"My god," Bonnie cries, petting Elena's hair softly and wiping her tears, "what's he done to you?"

"H-he's ch-cheated," she heaves, exhaling heavily in attempts to control her lungs. "He's cheated and I-I don't even know how long it's been going on for."

"Oh dear..."

"I j-just don't know what to d-do anymore, he's-"

"He's an ass," Bonnie concludes, and just by the way she says it so calmly and straight-forward, Elena bursts out laughing.

"Now hear this," she murmurs, tucking a strand of hair behind Elena's ear. "Men are rats. Listen, they're fleas on rats. Worse than that, they're amoebas on fleas on rats." She smiles warmly. "I mean, they're too low for even the dogs to bite."

Elena giggles, sniffling quietly. "You remembered my favourite quote."

"Of course I did!" Bonnie says brightly, mocking offense. "We only watched the movie about a hundred times."

They both share a laugh, before Elena sighs and fiddles her thumbs in thought.

"Bon," she says, "I really don't know what to do anymore."

"Run."

She stares wide-eyed. "What?"

"Run," Bonnie encourages. "Do what you need to do and get out of here. You deserve more than this."

"If I'm getting out of here, so are you."

"No, I'm not."

"Yes, you are! I'm not leaving you!"

"'Lena," Bonnie chides, frowning. "I'll be fine. I want you to get out of here and live your life. I'll get out when the time is right."

There's hesitancy in Elena's eyes, but they glow in a blend of gratitude and love. "You promise?" she whispers, grabbing Bonnie's hand to squeeze.

The woman nods and lets out a laugh, sniffling as a lone teardrop drops to the floor. "I promise."

xxxxx

 **A/N: So... Mason's a total jackass, if you haven't picked that up yet. I liked his character in the show a little I guess, but somehow I felt like there was this other side to him that was darker. I dunno, maybe it's just me. I'm kind of strange.**

 **Anyway, hope it was okay! Next chapter's the last, and _very_ short like this one. But it's totally worth it (I hope). :)**

 **Love you! xx**


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